


Comfortable

by orphan_account



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: M/M, busch!cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood is thicker than wedding rings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfortable

He comes to the coach after he’s done at the care center, concern etched all over his face. Samantha’s already set me up with an ice pack and some Advil, but he still wants to know if there’s anything he can do. I shake my head sadly.

“Not unless you can take us back to the white flag lap and make that wreck not happen,” I frown, and he sits down on the edge of the couch.

“I wish, Shrub. I wish I could.” He leans over and ruffles my hair, because even now, he won’t let me forget I’m the little brother. I’m his fucking boss now, but he still has to remind me of my place.

“Well, maybe if you hadn't tried to block and squeezed them up,” I say snidely, and the hand in my hair turns from playful to a painful tug.

“Watch it,” he growls, and I whimper. Over in the kitchen I see Samantha raise an eyebrow, but she knows how this goes, so she says nothing. “You may think you’re in charge because your name’s on the door at the shop, but you’re still my little brother. Don’t you forget that.”

“Okay, okay!” I answer, just a little bit too quickly. I see Samantha roll her eyes, and she grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I’m sorry, Kurt,” I say, lowering my eyes to the floor. The truth is, I’d say anything right now to get him to stop pulling my hair, because after that wreck, even my hair hurts.

Samantha stalks over and thrusts the bottle of water at Kurt’s hand. “Just keep in mind you both have to race tomorrow, Kurt.” He nods, and I think he understands the subtle warning she’s putting out there. He opens the bottle and takes a long drink, the plastic crackling as he sucks it down and the bottle collapses in on itself. He empties the bottle, and Samantha takes it back from him, goes and put it in the trash. “I’m going to take the puppies for a walk,” she announces, and quickly gets the dogs on their leashes. “You boys behave yourselves.” And with that, she’s gone, and Kurt and I are left staring at each other.

“She told us to behave,” I laugh softly, and Kurt smirks at me.

“Yeah, well, she’s not here now.” He grabs my hair again, but he doesn't pull as hard this time. This time, he leans in, and even though I know what’s coming, because I _always_ know what’s coming, it doesn't stop my heart from fluttering as he presses his lips against my forehead. “I was worried,” he says quietly, as he runs his fingers through my hair. “That was a nasty hit you took. And then you got hit again.”

I nod softly. “I’m okay. I’m sore, but I’m okay. You?”

He nods. “Fucking pissed that we were that close to a win and it didn't happen.” He sighs and lays his head on my shoulder. I reach up and pat it gently.

“I know. Man, do I know. I wanted that 1-2 finish.”

He laughs softly, runs a hand down my arm and rests his hand on top of mine, lacing our fingers together. “Yeah, but you wanted it to be you winning, and me finishing second.”

“Nope,” I reply, popping the P. “I would've been fine with you winning and me being runner up. Shake and bake, man. Besides... I really didn't need torn up equipment two days in a row,” I sigh, thinking of how much this weekend is going to cost me.

Kurt squeezes my hand gently, then turns his head just a bit a places a kiss on my neck, making a tingle run through my whole body. “Sorry Coach and Mars are being such assholes. If you’d been in that truck, you would've avoided that mess. Took evasive action and came on through. Leffler drove in like he didn't even see the problem in front of him.”

I roll my eyes and try to keep from growling. Not being in the truck is a sore subject. Knowing my equipment is torn up because someone else was in it is an even sorer subject. We haven’t been able to find a sponsor for the other races, and at this rate, we’ll be lucky if Dollar General doesn't bail on us before the halfway point of the season.

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly, his lips brushing against my neck as he speaks. “You didn't do anything that I wouldn't have done. You didn't do anything that other people haven’t done. You just got treated like you’re you. They hate you just like they hate me, Little Brother.”

He’s right. I know it now, and I knew it then. And I’ll participate in their little dog and pony show because I want to keep my ride, and because as much as they hate me for who I am, I don’t actually hate them. Am I annoyed by them? Hell yes. Do I wish they’d just let me be me and accept it, appreciate it, appreciate what I do for them? Yeah, I do, but I realize it’s probably not going to happen.

“You were probably right,” he continues, and I shiver just a tiny bit as his lips tickle my neck. “That time that you said I was part of your problem; that was probably true. I’m sorry for that.”

_No. No, it’s not your fault, Kurt. It’s their fault for not understanding._ I want to tell him that, but I’m not really sure how. I don’t know how to make him understand that as much as I may joke about it, I don’t hold him responsible. Not for any of it.

So I just shake my head, bring our entwined hands up to my mouth, and gently kiss the back of his, brushing my lips gently over his knuckles. I feel him tremble beside me. After all these years, after all the things that have changed, we can still get that rise out of each other.

“Kyle...” he starts, and I shush him. “No, really... we... you heard Sam,” he continues, and I know he’s right. I’d like to pretend he’s not, but he is.

“I know. So we’ll just... take it easy,” I reply, and nudge him to get up. He stands, and pulls me up from the couch. “Let’s just... go to the bedroom and cuddle,” I say.

“Cuddle? You really going to be able to stick to just cuddling?” he snorts, then heads for the bedroom like it’s _his_ coach, not mine, leaving me to trail after him. He quickly strips out of his jeans and shirt, pulls the covers back on the bed, and slides between the sheets. He smirks up at me as I follow his example and strip down to my boxers. “Or are you worried Sam’s gonna get her whip out if she finds out we've done more than cuddle?”

I stick my tongue out at him as I slide into bed with him, and wrap my arms around his slender frame. “You know I like it when she gets all... dominant,” I say, then kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip.

“We both do,” he replies, kissing me back a lot gentler than I kissed him. “Behave yourself, Kyle. We promised.”

I kiss him again, softer this time, as I run my hands up and down his back. “You worried she’ll tell Patricia?” I’m only teasing, but he nods.

“Terrified of it,” he laughs. “That’s all we need is both of them ready to teach us a lesson.”

“Well... at least not tonight,” I say, kissing him again. “Now tomorrow night? Maybe...”

“Speak for yourself. All I want to do is make it through that race in one piece, and then get some sleep in my own bed.”

He says that, but if the girls were offering, I know he wouldn't turn it down. Neither of us would.

“You’re a horrible liar, Kurt,” I laugh, kissing along his jaw. “Horrible.”

He moans softly and slides his hand up over my chest. “Maybe I am.”

“You definitely are,” I hiss, as his palm slides over my nipple. “And I thought you were telling me to behave just a minute ago.”

He laughs. “I was. I just like teasing you.”

“Yeah. You’re good at that, asshole,” I mutter, and he frowns.

“Sorry.” He kisses me, long and slow, as he caresses my cheek. “I’ll try to be less of an asshole... to you, at least.”

“Because I’m special?” I ask, gently scratching his back. He sighs, then smirks.

“Yeah, you’re special, Kyle. Helmet-wearing, window-licking, paint-chip-eating special.”

That hurts a lot more than it probably should, and I don’t want him to know it. I close my eyes, and I’m surprised when I feel his lips brush against my temple.

“You know I love you,” he whispers, then kisses my temple again. “I just... like to give you a hard time. It’s my job as a big brother.”

“I know,” I say softly, wrapping my arms around him tighter. “And I love you too, Kurt.”

When Samantha comes back to the bus an hour later, that’s how she finds us-- wrapped up in each others’ arms, sleeping peacefully.


End file.
